


Where Are You?

by Moonlights_Inkwell



Series: Jason Todd fics [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Guys being creepy, F/M, Threats of Violence, club, mentions of drug dealing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 16:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlights_Inkwell/pseuds/Moonlights_Inkwell
Summary: Going to the club for part of Jason's job was potentially an awful idea, but hey. Date night's date night, right?





	Where Are You?

The club is utterly packed, something utterly unsurprising for a Saturday night in a place like Gotham City. This has to be one of the grossest clubs in all of Gotham, with floors sticky enough to cause your foot to rise without your shoe more than once, and a smell that you don’t recognise for a few minutes before you realise that it’s multiple types of perfumes mingled with an almost overwhelming amount of Axe Body Spray, something you blame entirely on all of the people surrounding you. You’d be shocked that people would willingly come to a place like this if you weren’t all too used to the city, people will take anything as a means of forgetting about how awful living in the city with the highest crime rates in all of the country is. The people surrounding you cause you to think of a gyrating labyrinth in their dancing, and caused your movements around the other patrons to be awkward and uncomfortable; hips hitting other people as you try to manoeuvre your way back to the bar. While you would have usually apologised to the people that you had accidentally coming into contact with, the dirty looks that they keep sending you cause you to glare instead- cursing them out in your head, they must be able to see how fucking cramped this place is. Any ordinary niceties you’d offer to strangers are utterly abandoned when they prove themselves to be assholes. What usually would have been a two-second walk is now a ten-minute struggle. The smell mingling with the sweat-inducing heat of all of the people makes you feel more than just a little bit sick, a feeling that only ceases when you finally free yourself from the throng.

While adjusting your now crumpled dress and shoes, the shoes that you’re very sure are utterly ruined from the sticky floor and people in the crowd spilling drinks onto you during your passage through the club, you squint to better try and take in the somewhat darker surroundings of the bar. There are surprisingly few people in front of the bar, just a few drunk girls speaking obnoxiously loudly to each other, but annoyingly there’s no sight of your boyfriend. No sign of any tall, black-haired, blue-eyed boys anywhere around.  
“Damn it.” You mutter under your breath, pushing some stray hair behind your ear. Jason had brought you to the bar- as a means of finding a drug lord rather than as any form of a date. Before leaving to find then kill the scumbag, Jason had pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead after dumping his leather jacket around your shoulders, either as a means of marking you so that he can find you easily later or as a means of laying a claim on you to keep other men away. You can’t help but be just a little bit agitated at the fact that the first night that you’d spent with Jason, really in any capacity, was weeks ago. Sometimes when you allowed yourself to be selfish, but only in your mind, you would curse Jason’s selflessness and willingness to be out on the streets and saving the city that couldn’t save him. Shoving your hands into the pockets of the too big, brown leather jacket, you approach the counter, smiling slightly at the bartender while you order your usual drink of choice; you remind yourself internally that just because you’re alone in a gross place doesn’t mean that you can’t attempt to have some sort of fun. The waiter nods at you before getting to work, leaving you to lean against the cool, glittering quartz on the countertop. From across the room, a tall and pretty blond man leers at you before smirking almost sickeningly smugly at you and begins making a beeline towards you. Retrieving the newly placed down drink and replacing it with some cash from Jason’s pocket, you try to make a move to avoid the man on his way towards you only to stiffen at the feeling of a hand on your hip. Damn it. Of course, a creep in a bar would be able to more easily make his way around than you could. Trying to keep an expletive at bay, you turn on heel to glare at the man who was oggling you as if you were oblivious to what he was doing.  
“…Can I help you?” You ask forcefully, any semblance of politeness utterly ignored, face contorted in annoyance as you shove his hand away from your hip.  
“Come dance with me.” He demands, words slurred as he leans in towards you, breath hot against your skin and smelling of whiskey and something akin to lemon, forcing your grimace to intensify. Both the demand and his uneasy closeness makes you feel angry in a way you can’t help but feel like you can’t vocalise without coming across as an utter bitch, and you wish for all the world that Jason was with you to defend you. You want the defence only out of the subtle fear of what would happen from your denial in such a dark place with such loud music. Somehow, you doubt many people would notice if things went sour for you in their drunken stupors, and definitely don’t want to test your theory.  
“No thanks.” Your voice comes out much more shaky than you would have liked, and decide to down your drink in one- hoping that the liquid courage will do you some help, but nothing seems to come from it as the hand holding her glass begins to shake. The combination of the darkness with the pounding noises is making you feel more claustrophobic than ever before. [E/C] eyes dart around the club to try and look for anyone looking sober and friendly enough to help.  
“What the hell did you just say to me?” The blond barks at you, hand darting towards your arm as you stagger backwards. His eyes narrow dangerously, jaw clenched to the point where a vein in the side of his head bulges visibly even in the darkness. The sticky floor on the ground, however, means however that the staggering falters when your shoes stick to the floor, leaving you to slam harshly into the person standing immediately behind you. Your eyes snap shut immediately at the contact, but the smell of a familiar cologne combined with cigarette smoke makes you sigh in relief.  
“She just said Get Fucked, You Fucking Creep,” Jason growls at the man from behind you, his arm winding around your waist protectively. Your relief is, however, shortlived as the blond man continues in his attempt to grab your arm in spite of Jason’s protective grip on you. Jason growls angrily, shoving the man’s arm before punching him in the face. Eyes widening at this, you realise that your original theory was indeed correct. None of the people around you even seem to notice that your boyfriend had just decked the weirdo.  
Jason’s anger doesn’t seem to lessen even after he had punched the man, pulling you along by your waist towards the door. Once outside in the bitter cold air of mid-April, he softens slightly and cups your face. Any anger seems to dissipate, replaced in turn by concern as he tilts your face towards the fluorescent orange light of the street lamps, examining your face to see if the man had actually managed to hurt you.  
“…You find him?” You ask, trying to maintain an air of normalcy, trying to maintain eye contact with Jason.  
“Yep. He’s not gonna be dealing around here anymore, Babe.” Jason confirms before gently pressing a kiss to the junction of your jaw and neck. “He hurt you?” His voice is soft and remorseful enough for you to forget that Jason hadn’t been around in the first place.  
“I’m fine. I’m okay, I promise.” You mumble as Jason’s kisses gently ebb up from your jaw to your cheek and then across to your mouth. His lips break into a small smile as he gently kisses the corner of your mouth in apology for his absence.  
“Good. Cause if he’d hurt you… let’s just say that ugly fucker wasn’t gonna be fuckin’ walkin’ home.”


End file.
